I just opened my eyes. The dark and stormy night had me bewitched into thinking I was sleeping. I realized when I opened my eyes that I’d merely been working horizontal. My body feels like I was lumber-jacking. I may have sounded like it last night too. I don’t know where the truck is that hit me last night, but somebody ought to stop that guy from driving.
It isn’t that I had a bad night, it’s this head cold that showed up about the time I arrived home from the Constitution Meeting last night. Speaking of Constitution, I’m thrilled at the response to the Constitution Meetings that are rising up in our community. I was shocked that there are so few women involved in the meeting. Nita and I decided if they try to take away our right to vote, we’ll stop bringing cookies. That should solve the problem of women’s rights!
I’m listening to the radio this morning, Eric Stone chatters up the War in Iraq, while Ty Harmon chips in with comments on Afghanistan. And the talk turns to a plane crash in Amsterdam.
Foreclosures are down in Colorado, already this year. Glaciers in Antarctica are melting faster than previously thought… Could the Arkansas River rise?
The question of the day.
“Will Jaws be a few feet closer to shore?” Eric Stone is highly concerned about the effect of the rising ocean waters on Southeastern Colorado.
And the pillow won. I gave up my blanket and my nice cozy bed, and I’m in here working while the pillow sleeps to prepare for tonight’s wrestling match.
Obama has promised a land of milk and honey, I don’t think I’m following him through Egypt.
The poles are melting and they expect Denver to be beach front property within two years, perhaps I’ll keep that house instead of selling. It’ll be worth more in two years. The world is a snowball on a down hill run, we’re gathering flakes and speeding up.
(Currently reporting the news as it happened on “Anything Goes” in Lamar, Colorado.)
Pat Palmer invites all to the Pitstop for a Thursday Taco.
You probably can’t tell that I love rain. But, I’m going to tell you that I love rain. I could probably stop there and you’d understand that this morning’s post is about RAIN in Colorado. We don’t get nearly enough of it here on the plains. And yet, coming home from La Junta last night, we saw miles and miles of rain flooded fields. (Okay, no flood, just rain puddles sitting in the fields.) We do LOVE rain.
I was slightly agrivated. They get rain all the time in La Junta and in Granada, on both sides of us, but here we sit in the middle with NO RAIN.
It’s not that we deserve rain more than they do, or even that we deserve rain at all, but it’s nice to have. That’s my point! So, knowing that, I’m amazed that we don’t get rain. I like green growing things, flowers, trees, moss on the north side of the house. Without rain, or at least morning dew to bring moisture to the ground, we don’t have green growing things… At least, not the ones I want.
So, yes, I’m being selfish here, when I say – I love rain! I actually love having rain in my yard, because it means I have a green growing yard, and the kids have to mow! YEA!
Most days I try to do something other than ramble, but today – ramble is the name of the game.
If you took a moment to read this, I promise something of greater value later today.
Crisp clear mornings washed bright by rain don’t happen often in Colorado. The dawn of a new day after a rain here often means dirt will blow, or some other gray phenomenon will be coming our way before the day’s end. Not pessimism, just simply the way the rain works in Colorado. There aren’t many rainy days.
As a teenager, we spent many summers in the midwest where rain was more common and I learned that I really enjoyed a good rain storm. Many of my journals those summer days began with “the rain drizzled down the window” and talked about weather systems I longed for back home. “Thunder rumbled and rolled across Michigan, ripping through the forested land like a new plow, laboring under rain laden gray clouds.” Could provide for hours of writing a description of storms rolling slowly overhead as I curled on the top bunk of our family motorhome with my paper and pen a handy friend.
Continue reading Write “The Rain Drops Splatter”